


Magical Misha

by Janice_Lester



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Fairy Misha, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janice_Lester/pseuds/Janice_Lester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha has a little secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magical Misha

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [](http://vee-dub.livejournal.com/profile)[vee_dub](http://vee-dub.livejournal.com/). Slight reference to 6.15, otherwise no spoilers.

“You’re a fairy,” Jared repeated tonelessly.

Misha nodded.

“And you mean that literally, like, magical creature with wings and fairy dust and all that crap?”

“Oh, yes. But the other kind too.” He threw his favourite drag pose, winked back at Jared over his shoulder. “I’m an all-around, multi-talented fairy.”

Jared was apparently stunned speechless by the sight of such alluring physical beauty. Misha could quite understand that, so he just hummed a little tune and gave his human friend time to recover his wits. Fortunately, he was a patient pixie. Okay, maybe not, perhaps ‘impatience’ _had_ been one of the alleged imperfections for which he’d been banished from the Realm. But in comparison with the Jared Padaleckis of this world, he was a model of patience. He waited.

“I, uh… yeah. Okay. Think I’m just going to go have a nice lie-down in my trailer.”

Misha wasn’t sure, but he thought he detected an unsaid addition of “until things start to make sense again”. Poor Jared, he might have a long wait.

***

Misha had been a very good little fairy for his first eleventeen or so years. He’d done well in school, sat neatly cross-legged on his assigned mushroom in the classglade, listened avidly to the teacher. Learned to add and subtract and occasionally multiply. Obediently practiced his Pigeon, Hedgehog, and Feline vocabulary. Struggled with Sparrow grammar and the madness that was Eel irregular verbs. Not that he’d really seen the point. Eels had complex grammar but very little to _say_. Only Mouse had really come naturally to him. Which was awesome, because mice were some of the very best people he knew. (Frogs were fascinating, but tended to be pretentious pricks.)

Anyway, it wasn’t that he was stupid or a bad student or anything. He was just… different. Started feeling a strange itch to get out in the world, see things, discover things, learn things hands-on. Meet people who’d never lived in forests or counted frozen dewdrops on a crisp midwinter morn.

Getting out into the wider world had totally blown his mind, in a good way.

Case in point: Jared Padalecki. Nothing in fairy school had prepared Misha for the gigantic ball of zany, eager energy that was Jared. (Though it _had_ prepared him to seek advice from the said Jared’s dogs, who were helpful souls with excellent taste in pets. They’d explained that Jared was _extremely_ food-motivated and thought everyone else was, too, and that although it was difficult to exercise him to exhaustion every little bit helped.)

***

“So,” Jared ventured on Monday, having had the weekend to think about what Misha had thought would have been a pretty obvious revelation, “if you’re a fairy, do you actually have, like wings? And a magic wand?”

“I think I have my grandmother’s old school wand somewhere, but it’s seldom necessary to resort to one once you’ve gained a rudimentary knowledge of the basis of magic. And yes, I have wings, though I don’t show them to people.”

Jared actually pouted as if he’d been denied a treat. Then his expression hardened. “Well, why should I believe you? I mean, we’re both pranksters, so forgive me if I’m suspicious by nature.”

Misha handed him a stick of authentic Brighton Rock.

“Cool, thanks,” Jared said, and then blinked. “Where did you—?”

Misha looked down at his complete lack of pockets big enough to conceal a full stick of the candy. “Brighton,” he said simply.

Jared frowned so hard it was a wonder his eyes didn’t bug out.

“By the way, Sadie hates that blue collar with the rhinestones, but she’s too polite to tell you. Ah, I think I hear a PA calling me.” He patted Jared’s broad shoulder. “I’ll see you on set.”

“I didn’t hear—”

“Well, you wouldn’t,” Misha consoled him. “Stupid human ears. Wait a minute, I think she’s almost in range—”

“Misha?” came a distant, feminine voice. “Misha Collins? Has anyone seen—?”

“Coming, Callista!” Misha bellowed, and skipped away in her direction.

***

“So have you told Jensen that you’re a, you know?”

Misha clicked his tongue. “You really are obsessed with this one single facet of my wonderful multi-faceted existence, aren’t you? You really should try to broaden your mental horizons.”

“Ass,” Jared said.

“Camel,” Misha replied. He wasn’t quite sure what the game was, but this response seemed likely to be at least tangentially relevant. “Hey, didn’t your character-who-was-supposed-to-be-the-real-you-only-not have a llama? Or was it an alpaca? I was good friends with a yak once. I’ll spare you the obvious joke.”

Jared now looked _extremely_ confused. “Pretty sure it was an alpaca,” he said vaguely. “Is that important?”

“Only if you want me to talk to it. Not all the camelids speak the same language. And some of them actually get offended if you pick the wrong one. It’s a serious problem.”

“I can imagine,” Jared said, in tones that said he most definitely could not. “So, Jensen?”

Misha blinked. “No, I’m Misha.”

“Pay attention, doofus. Is Jensen still in the dark about your, uh, secret identity?”

“Oh. That. Yes. He still believes I am merely a mild-mannered television actor with a history of playing Russians, criminals, and Russian criminals. Why, would you trust him with your secret identity, if you had one?”

“In a heartbeat,” Jared said.

This gave Misha some food for thought, but he resolved to leave thinking for later. Perhaps he’d save it for bath time. “So, lunch?”

Jared’s stomach gurgled loudly enough for even a human to hear.

***

“Dear Jensen,” Jensen read aloud, glancing up from the note to Misha and back down again, “I have something to tell you. I’m not a human being. I’m a fairy. Please don’t judge me harshly for keeping this from you so long. It doesn’t mean I don’t trust and respect you, because I do. Love, Misha. PS You can stop trying to clear up that rash with that stinky medicated ointment stuff. It’s magical in origin. My guess is that one of your delightful fans cursed a fan letter to punish you if you didn’t write back. Try ritually bathing the affected area in cold water under moonlight, that usually works for the annoyance-grade curse.” He gave Misha a stern look.

“Or you could try replying to all your recent fanmail,” Misha suggested thoughtfully.

To say Jensen looked skeptical would be a hilarious understatement. Misha patted him supportively and then left him to his thoughts.

***

“So, I told Jensen, and he seems cool with it,” Misha announced, helping himself to Jared’s trailer’s couch and his feet to Jared’s lap. “So we can have sex now?”

Jared blinked ostentatiously. His eyelashes were oddly mesmerising, like a peacock hoisting up its tail. “You want to have sex with Jensen?”

This idea had considerable novelty value, so Misha took a moment to think about it. “I could easily be persuaded to pleasure the lovely Jensen, if that was what he wished,” he decided. “But no. I meant you and me.” He stroked Jared’s thigh seductively with his foot. Well, with Castiel’s angelic left shoe, but it was the thought that counted, right?

“You want to—wait, what?”

“I am hitting on you, Jared, dear.” He batted his eyelashes as hard as he could. “Is it working yet?”

“I swear, the universe must’ve taken a left turn back there somewhere, and I didn’t notice.” But he didn’t sound disapproving, more… flustered.

 _Promising_.

“I’ll show you amazing things. I’ll introduce you to the wisest mice in the land. I’ll bring you candy from all corners of the—”

“Will you let me see your wings?”

Misha sucked in a breath. The back of his neck tingled as the little hairs jumped to attention all at once. Elsewhere, there was further tingling from parts considerably less shy than the rest of him. And the rest of him really wasn’t terribly shy. Just for a second, he allowed himself to imagine what it might feel like for Jared to run one finger down his wing, perhaps following the line of a vein through the transparent skin. The thought was pleasant, but almost too much, and it was a moment before he could look at Jared again.

“I won’t hurt you, I won’t touch if you don’t want.”

But Misha found he didn’t need to be soothed or reassured by this great big, thoroughly trustworthy lug. He smiled. “Okay,” he said, and leaned in for a kiss.

Jared met him halfway.

And it was magical.

 

***END***


End file.
